


Picking Up The Pieces

by Brihna



Series: Brihna's Prompt-fills: 00Q [8]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sexual Content, Tumblr Prompt, bond may be suffering from FEELINGS, this thing took on a life of its own i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7695055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brihna/pseuds/Brihna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Q finds himself the target of a honeypot mission, he is completely humiliated. Not only has a very intimate part of his personal life been thrown into light, but now MI6 is left to deal with a security breach and the potentially compromised identity of their Quartermaster. Not wanting to take chances, M confines Q to a safe house until the dust settles. Of course, he just HAD to assign 007 as his security detail...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: “Read you’re taking prompts! 00Q please, angst and happy ending - Q has been targeted (and bedded) as a honeypot, Bond picks up the pieces.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story began as a prompt fill left by an anonymous tumblr user. The second the prompt hit my inbox, my brain was instantly buzzing and I just HAD to write it. The next thing I knew I had a request for a continuation and- well- it sort of took on a life of its own from there. The moral of this story is; don't be afraid to send me a 00Q prompt. I may just turn it into a full fic!

The man had first approached him at a pub he frequented with Moneypenny. She had just ducked out to go to the loo and the next thing he knew this tall, muscled, dark eyed, frankly _gorgeous_ man had appeared at his elbow and was offering to buy him a drink. Gavin, he’d said his name was. He was in London on business. They chatted for a bit, but when it became clear that the man was only looking for a conquest for the evening he had cut things short. Q left the pub expecting never to see him again.

Only their paths crossed again not twenty-four hours later as Q headed for the tube station on his way home. Gavin, it seemed, was quite chastened and even went so far as to apologize for the night before. He wanted to make it up to him. He asked if they could start over. Q agreed to meet for coffee the next morning.

These encounters continued over the next week or so, eventually evolving into actual _dates,_ as it were. Q liked Gavin. He was charming, intelligent, funny at times. After their third night out to dinner, Q asked him to come back to his flat. _If you’re sure_ , he’d said. He was.

Q was nervous. It had been a long time since he’d been with anyone. He’d been so focused on his career and the anonymity that went along with it that he never really got around to dating much after university. But Gavin was sweet and he knew all the right things to say and- fuck- he _wanted_ this. So he invited him into his bed.

It wasn’t until he caught him trying to access his computer in the middle of the night that he realized how stupid he’d been.

How had he not seen it? He’d been on the other side of the comms on countless honeypot missions. All the signs had been there and he’d missed it. How naïve can you get?

One jolt from the taser Q kept by the bed and the man was out cold. Then he called it in.

“And you’re certain no data was compromised?” asked M the following morning.

“Yes, sir,” Q answered firmly, standing with his hands folded behind him on the other side of Mallory’s desk. “I’ve checked the logs myself and had my staff do the same. Of course, he never made it past the first layer of security on my laptop, but I thought it best to be sure.”

“Very well,” said M. “I’ll let you know what interrogation learns from the prisoner. I appreciate you being so… _thorough_ in your efforts to contain this threat, and for coming to me so quickly. I understand that it isn’t easy-”

“Thank you, sir,” Q cut in, giving a curt nod. “I can assure you that nothing like this will ever happen again.”

“Of course,” M nodded patiently. “But the matter at hand still remains. Now, I think it best that you lay low for a while until we can investigate this further. Therefore, I am granting you leave effective immediately for as long as the situation calls for it. You may grant R full access so that she can run the department in your absence.”

Q stared at him. “Sir, to ‘lay low’ would imply that I have something to hide. I have given you full disclosure. If you think that I’ve been compromised-”

“No, Quartermaster. I do not think that you have been compromised.”

“But you’re suspending me-”

“I am granting you _leave-_ ”

“Then I respectfully decline.”

“You will _not_.”

M was on his feet now, giving Q the urge to retreat a step, but he stood his ground, meeting his gaze evenly.

“Q, I need you to understand,” said M calmly. “The fact that you have my trust is not enough to assuage SIS. There will need to be an inquiry. Standard procedure. But there is something else that concerns me. You may not have been compromised but there is a risk that your identity _has_. We need to find out who this man is working for and why you were targeted. Did they simply identify you as a government employee or have they identified you as our Quartermaster? Until we have gathered further intelligence you will remain under guard for your own safety. You say you took this man to your flat?”

Q swallowed hard, fists clenched at his sides as he fought the sudden urge to be sick. “Yes, sir.”

“Then I think it best we move you to a safe house. He may have transmitted the location to the people he’s working for.”

A brief knock preceded the door opening as Bond entered, coming to stand in front of M’s desk. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“007,” greeted M. “I trust Tanner briefed you on the present situation.”

He spared a cursory glance at Q who was determinedly staring at the floor. “He did,” answered Bond.

“Good. You are to escort the Quartermaster down to Q-branch where he will make the necessary arrangements for his absence, then he is to be moved to a safe house until further notice.” He turned to Q. “I will arrange for Ms. Moneypenny to gather some of your things once we’ve cleared your flat. From Q-branch you will go straight to the safe house. No detours. Understood?”

Q nodded at the floor. “Yes, sir.”

He returned his attention to Bond. “Tanner will send the details to your mobile. Any questions?”

“No, sir,” they answered, nearly in unison.

“Good. You are dismissed.”

* * *

The safe house wasn’t as horrible as Q imagined it would be. It was a little flat in Chelsea, sparsely furnished but homey enough. There was only one bedroom, but the living room sofa was quite comfortable. Or at least that was the answer he gave when Bond asked why he hadn’t moved in the past three hours.

Q was dressed in a faded t-shirt and track pants that were both too big for him; Bond’s things as Moneypenny had yet to come around with his clothes. He sat on one end of the sofa with his knees drawn up to his chest, arms clasped tightly around them as he stared at the opposite wall.

“Well, you don’t look very comfortable,” answered Bond, coming to stand in front of the sofa with his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“If it bothers you that much you can stand guard over there,” he answered tersely, waving vaguely toward the other end of the room. The space was quite small. “Or whatever it is you do in safe houses to keep occupied. Clean your gun.”

Bond studied him for a moment, completely unfazed by his prickly Quartermaster. Then, to Q’s surprise, he took a seat beside him on the sofa. He could feel the intensity of those glacial eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Q sighed, hugging his knees tighter against his chest. “No.”

There was a long pause. “Would you like a drink?”

He scoffed. “That’s your solution to everything, isn’t it?” The corner of his mouth twitched. “But right about now that actually sounds like a good idea.”

* * *

For someone who claimed not to drink very often, Q had a rather impressive tolerance for alcohol; James had to give him that. It was late into the evening and they had drunk more than half the bottle of scotch between them. Q had remained pretty lucid to this point, but now he seemed to be falling asleep. James was just about to suggest he go to bed (he’d already planned to sleep on the sofa) when Q started talking.

“You know, I’ve made a lot of mistakes with relationships in my life, but this takes it,” he said, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. “How could I have been so fucking stupid?”

“We’ve all trusted the wrong person at some point in our careers,” said James. “It comes with the job.”

“But I’ve seen the same scenario a hundred times.” He closed his eyes. “I guess I was just too desperate for it to be real,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just- it had been a long time; you know? Since I had anyone. I’d forgotten what it felt like.” He sniffed, hastily wiping away a tear. He gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes as another quickly took its place. “See, this is why I shouldn’t drink.”

Tentatively, James reached out a hand, brushing his thumb against the nape of his neck. When Q made no move to pull away he moved closer, giving him a gentle tug until he leaned against him, burying his face in his chest. Feeling bolder, he carded a hand through his hair, the other rubbing soothing circles on his back as he cried.

In a selfish way he found pleasure in holding the younger man like his; those long fingers twisting in his shirt, a brush of soft curls against his cheek. He removed his glasses, folding them neatly on the coffee table so that they’d both be more comfortable. Somehow he looked even younger without them. Something tightened in his chest as he gazed down at the figure curled against his chest; like a dull ache he had long forgotten. He found himself imagining more nights like this; lazing on the sofa, Q clinging to him as though they were the only two people left in the world. He thought of taking him to his bed.

James closed his eyes, willing away the selfish thoughts even as he held him closer. He brushed his lips against his temple without even thinking. “You deserve so much better,” he breathed into his hair, a little alarmed when he realized he’d said the words aloud.

Q stirred against his chest, having nearly fallen asleep. Hazel green eyes blinked up at him. He hadn’t noticed their color before. “And you don’t?” he asked as if he’d been reading his thoughts. But the moment passed and the glassy look returned, until Q slumped against him once more and began snoring softly.

James chuckled low in his chest. “I think it’s time to get you to bed.”

With Q’s head resting on his shoulder he slipped an arm under his knees, lifting him easily and carrying him to the back bedroom. He laid him gently on the bed, pulling the covers up over his shoulders as he curled on his side. As he rose to leave a hand encircled his wrist.

“Stay,” said Q, his grip surprisingly strong.

James hesitated, weighing his options; but Q, it seemed, had no intention of letting him go. He took a seat on the side of the bed. “Alright.”

Q relinquished his hold, his hand flopping onto the bed. “Don’t have to sleep on the lumpy sofa,” he mumbled, eyes half closed.

He smirked, already shucking his jeans. “I thought you said the sofa was quite comfortable,” he mused, tossing them in a pile on the floor.

Q frowned with his eyes closed. “No lumpy sofa. In,” he demanded almost petulantly, reaching for him in the darkness.

James chuckled as he peeled off his shirt, tossing it on top of his jeans before climbing into bed, clad in just his pants. “Yes, my Quartermaster,” he said, laying down beside him. “You know, you’re adorable when you’re drunk.”

“M’not,” came the mumbled reply as Q curled against his side, resting his head on his shoulder.

James smiled as he wrapped him in his arms. “Whatever you say.”

And if James held him like that until the sun came up- well; no one else needed to know.


	2. Chapter 2

Q awoke in an unfamiliar bed, head pounding as light streamed in through the window. He sat up slowly, groping around for his glasses until he spotted a familiar fuzzy outline on the bedside table. Perching them on the end of his nose, hazel green eyes swept the room. Plain white walls, light coming in from the wrong direction. No, this was definitely not his bedroom.

As he gradually came to a state of wakefulness, the events of the past twenty-four hours or so started to come back to him. Taking Gavin home- if that was even his real name. His ultimate betrayal. His own humiliation at having to bring the whole mess to M- not exactly the way he had wished to come out to his boss. Then coming to the safe house. Bond…

He frowned. The last thing he remembered was sitting on the sofa with Bond as he attempted to drown himself in scotch. How and when had he made it to bed?

“Good morning,” Bond greeted a bit too cheerily as he strode into the room with a plate of toast and a steaming mug in his hands. “Or afternoon I should say.”

Q furrowed his brow as the plate was set on the bedside table and the mug- earl grey now that he could smell it- was pressed into his hands. “What time is it?”

“Almost 1300,” he answered as he straightened; that tight fitting light blue t-shirt leaving little to the imagination and doing wonders to bring out the color of his eyes. Those glacial blue eyes that regarded him in a way that Q couldn’t quite place.

“Shit,” said Q as he took his eyes off the man long enough to process what he’d just said. “Why did you let me sleep so late?”

Bond gave a non-committal shrug, hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Because you needed it. And, anyway, it’s not like either of us has anywhere to be today.” He nodded toward the mug in Q’s hands. “You should drink that before it gets cold.”

Q blinked at him owlishly, having forgotten he was holding it for a moment. He took a sip from the mug and- _oh my god_ it was perfect. Just the right amount of milk and sugar. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again Bond was watching him expectantly.

“Alright?”

“It’s perfect,” he answered, feeling slightly flushed under the intense gaze. “Thank you.” He took another sip, thoughtful. “How did you know how I take my tea?”

He smirked. “Trade secret. I _am_ an international spy, you know.”

And there was that look again; something that he couldn’t quite place. Bond still hadn’t moved. He drank his tea in silence, finally beginning to feel more awake. And then it came back to him. A half whispered conversation and the feeling of strong arms around him. A brush of lips against his temple and a warm body slipping out of bed in the early light of dawn.

_Shit._ He swallowed hard. “Bond,” he began, eyeing the older man warily. “Last night- did, um…” He struggled for words. “Did we… sleep together?”

Bond looked like the cat that caught the canary. “In the literal sense, yes,” he answered wryly. “But I can assure you that I was the perfect gentleman. Although you are quite clingy when you’re drunk.”

He cringed inwardly. There was no judgment in his tone; if anything it had sounded almost- _affectionate_. (Which was completely ridiculous.) Suddenly Q wished he could disappear. “Bond-”

“Eat your toast, Q,” said Bond, and he slipped from the room.

Q stared after him for a long moment, trying to reconcile the double-o he knew with the man who had just brought him breakfast in bed. He frowned. There was not enough caffeine in his system for this.

* * *

He finished his tea and toast- feeling much less hungover- and went to have a shower, taking his time under the spray so that he could gather his thoughts. What had he done last night? What had he said? And how on earth did he coax 007 into his _bed_ without the promise of sex? Then there was the way he kept looking at him that he couldn’t figure out. It was nearly enough to bring back the headache he’d only just rid himself of.

He stepped out of the shower some twenty minutes later looking forward to fresh clothes and- hopefully- a fresh start to the day. It was only after he’d finished toweling off that he realized he didn’t have anything to change into. As if Bond had sensed his predicament, there came a knock on the door.

“Moneypenny came by with your things earlier,” he said, voice slightly muffed by the door between them. “I’ve got your bag here.”

Q hesitated for a moment; then- realizing there was nothing for it, he wrapped the towel tightly around his waist and opened the door.

Bond stood just outside, looking mildly surprised as the door swung open fully to reveal Q standing in the doorway in just his towel. But his features smoothed over just as quickly, exuding an air of confidence as he held out a duffle bag. Q felt himself flush as that icy gaze roved over him appreciatively. “Here you are.”

Q swallowed as he accepted the bag, their fingers brushing perhaps more than necessary in the exchange. “Thank you,” he managed.

Bond just grinned, allowing the door to fall closed between them once more.

Q dressed quickly, trying to ignore the slight tingling in his fingers where their hands had touched. After cleaning his teeth and viciously rubbing a towel over his hair, he emerged to find Bond standing in the kitchen holding his phone to his ear.

“Alright,” he was saying. “Keep me posted.”

He ended the call as Q stepped further into the room. The younger man frowned.

“Tanner checking in,” Bond explained. “Your friend isn’t talking much, but they found a fair amount of tech in his hotel room. Among other things.” He met Q’s gaze evenly. “R is tracing the sources, but we think it’s safe to say he wasn’t working alone. There is also evidence to suggest that he planned on taking you; if he didn’t get the intel he was after.”

Q took a breath, fighting to appear unaffected in spite of the cold feeling creeping into his chest. He set his jaw. “I should be helping,” he said, his fingers inching for his laptop.

“R is handling it.”

“But I can’t just sit here and do _nothing_ ,” Q answered tersely. “It was my own stupidity that created this mess; I could at least-”

“Q-”

Bond moved into his space, resting both hands on his shoulders. He was close enough now that Q could smell his aftershave; a scent he realized was somehow comfortingly familiar.

“You’re the Quartermaster. And the best one Six has ever seen,” said Bond. “It was only a matter of time before someone targeted you. It was always going to happen one way or another. Your security is our number one priority and we’re not taking any risks. The less tech we have here that someone might track the better.”

Q deflated somewhat, knowing of course that Bond was right. But it didn’t make him feel any less useless. He met he agent’s gaze. “I’m going to lose my mind without any of my tech.”

Bond grinned. “Well, I’m sure we can find a way to keep ourselves occupied.” And while his tone was that of the casual flirting he’d come to expect from the infamous 007, there was that look again.

He swallowed hard. “Bond… about last night- I apologize if I did anything… untoward,” he said to the floor. “I, um… It was a bit of a stressful day. It won’t happen again.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Q,” answered Bond, that intense gaze piercing him like sharpened steel as their eyes met. “I didn’t exactly mind.”

Q frowned. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Why?” asked Bond, stepping just an inch too close to be casual. He reached out a hand, brushing a stray curl off his face. “Because you don’t think that I could want you?”

Q tried to form a response, but suddenly his mouth had gone dry. He had long come to terms with having a crush on Bond. Ever since their first meeting in the National Gallery there was positively no denying it. But it had always been a distant thing; a passing fancy. He could look but he could never touch. Standing so close to the man now- in those jeans and that _infuriatingly_ tight t-shirt- he could feel the brush of his fingers like a brand on his skin. It was as if the man radiated heat.

“Or are you just trying to deter me; because you’re afraid of what might happen if I did?”

There was a challenge in his gaze that Q met with equal intensity. He thought back over the past twenty-four hours- the past few _weeks_. He had been used. He’d been humiliated and taken advantage of. Now more than anything he wanted to take back control.

_Fuck this._

The soft grunt that escaped Bond was the only indication of surprise as Q crashed their lips together, fingers twisted in the front of his t-shirt. It was less than a second before Bond responded in kind, quickly matching his intensity as he crowded Q against the wall, deepening the kiss.

“Don’t you dare think-” said Q between kisses, “for one second- that this was your idea. Or that you can just- charm your way- into bed with me.” He let his head fall back against the wall as Bond began nipping beneath his jaw. “Because whatever happens next happens on my terms.” He closed his eyes as he began sucking a bruise on the side of his throat. “Because _I_ want it.”

“Anything you say, Q,” Bond rumbled against his throat, deft fingers slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt.

“As long as that’s clear, 007,” said Q, suppressing a pleasant shiver at the slide of calloused fingers against his skin.

“James,” he said against his jaw.

“I… what?”

“Call me James.”

“Fine then,” said Q, guiding him back to his mouth. “James.”


	3. Chapter 3

What the hell was he doing?

James was no stranger to playing the distraction- to the bored arms dealer’s wife, the drug lord’s jilted lover, the enemy spy; but it was always for a purpose- for information. Part of the job. All those who had invited him into their beds were to be used once and either left or disposed of. He never saw them again. But this wasn’t a mark. This was _Q_. Q who had been hurt, who had been manipulated, but like all those others was just looking for a distraction.

He should’ve put a stop to it before things got too far, he should have made him see reason; he would regret it. _Surely_ Q would regret this when all was said and done. But as Q lay beneath him on the bed- having already discarded his trousers and relieved James of his t-shirt- those clever fingers working to divest him of his belt; reason gave way to every selfish desire he’d fantasized about for months.

Tossing the belt aside, Q quickly moved on to the buttons of his jeans, his eagerness apparent in the way he none so gently worked them free. But James had other plans. He wanted to take his time with this.

He caught Q by the wrists and pinned him to the bed, muffling the small gasp of surprise with his mouth. He held his wrists high above his head as he made to devour him in the kiss, relishing the pleased hum against his mouth and the way Q tried to trap him with his legs, urging their bodies closer together. He could feel his eagerness in the roll of his hips.

James relinquished his hold in favor of sliding further down the body beneath him, trailing kisses and nips along the sharp jawline; the pale expanse of the long neck he’d wanted to ravage for so long. His fingers found the hem of Q’s shirt, and he ducked his head to brush his lips against his abdomen; inch by inch as his skin was exposed. A sharp intake of breath gave him pause as his lips brushed his navel. He raked his fingers down his sides, his suspicions confirmed as Q tried to suppress a giggle.

“Ticklish there, Q?” he teased, sliding a hand across his belly, one finger tracing teasing circles around his navel.

Q squirmed in a clear effort to escape the light touches. “Don’t you dare-” he said, grabbing for his hand.

James grinned, pressing a kiss to his ribs. “I guess I’ll have to find out some other time.”

Any further retort was cut off as James worked to remove his shirt, tossing it unceremoniously to the floor before he bent to cover his mouth with his own. He ran his hands over his now bare torso appreciatively, enjoying the feel of soft skin beneath his fingers. His hands stopped just shy of the waistband of his pants, drawing a frustrated sound from Q.

“James-”

He pulled back just enough to see his face, one hand curled around his hip. “Tell me what you want,” he said huskily.

Q’s eyes darkened and his fingers curled at the nape of his neck. He drew James down and kissed him languidly, opening his mouth to allow the slide of their tongues. After a moment he pulled back, but he did not slacken his grip. “I want you to fuck me.”

He met his gaze evenly. This was not a request; it was a command. And who was James to deny him?

* * *

James was good. Better than good.

He’d heard the stories of course; Bond had quite a reputation as a lover. But none of it had come close to this. The time he took, the way he seemed to put his partner’s pleasure ahead of his own- and get just as much satisfaction.

Q had never been particularly loud in bed. He supposed it was partly because he was used to sharing walls and was mortified at the thought of the neighbors overhearing. He didn’t know if they had neighbors at this safe house. He didn’t know if there were more double-o’s stationed overhead for added security. Somehow, he didn’t care. And James made him scream.

By the time they finished, Q was utterly spent. Too spent to even move his limbs. James took care of the clean-up, which was nice. But beyond that he hadn’t expected anything. He certainly hadn’t expected him to climb back into bed and pull him into his arms. But he knew better than to question. As bitterly as he admitted it to himself, he would take the affection where he could get it. Temporary though it may be.

“Shagged out is a good look for you,” said James, idly carding his fingers through his hair. “I think you should try it more often.”

Q chuckled against his shoulder. “Do any of your lines ever actually work?”

“I don’t know. Did it?”

“Well,” said Q, grinning in spite of himself, “I must say that was an experience I wouldn’t mind repeating.”

He felt James smile against his hair. “Then I guess it worked.”

He laughed. As they lapsed into a comfortable silence, Q nuzzled against his shoulder, breathing in the scent that was uniquely James. Calloused fingers traced lazy patterns up and down his arm, the light touch almost lulling him to sleep. Almost.

As the minutes stretched on, the silence gave way to the floodgate of his restless thoughts. And no matter how he tried to shut them out- how much he tried to just hang onto this moment- he couldn’t shake the cold sense of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. The voice in his head that told him that this wasn’t going to last. He tried to focus on the body pressed against his, the feeling of skin against skin, as if he could sear it into his memory. He wondered if it would be enough.

“I can hear you thinking,” said James, his voice rumbling deep in his chest.

He didn’t answer. Perhaps he’d assume he had fallen asleep. He felt a hand in his hair.

“Q?”

Or not.

“Are you alright?”

Q hummed an affirmative, pressing closer against his side.

But for James, it seemed, this wasn’t enough. He rolled them until Q was on his back and James on his side, propped up on one elbow. Sharp blue eyes searched his face. He brushed the backs of his fingers against his cheek. “You sure?”

It was such a tender gesture that it nearly brought tears to his eyes. He reached up and curled his fingers at the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. He smiled up at him as they parted. “I’m fine.”

Before he could respond, Q recognized the sound of James’ mobile buzzing insistently on the bedside table. The older man hesitated.

“You should probably get that,” said Q. He rolled out from underneath him, moving to sit at the edge of the bed with his back toward him as he scanned their surroundings for his clothes. As he bent to retrieve his pants from the floor, he felt the bed shift and heard James’ gruff voice as he answered.

“Bond.”

Q slipped into his pants and began to move about the room more freely now that he felt less exposed.

“Yes, Tanner. What have you got?”

He dressed quickly as he retrieved the rest of his clothes, picking up articles of Bond’s as he went and setting them neatly on the bed.

“What?” James spared him a sideways glance before addressing Tanner once more. “When?”

Q frowned. “What is it?”

He glanced at Q. “Someone just tried to hack into our system,” he answered before returning to the call. “Do we know who it was?” James frowned. “Well, what _do_ we know?”

Q stalked toward him and held out a hand. “Let me speak to Tanner.”

“He says R’s handling it.”

“Any direct attack on our system is _my_ responsibility and I will deal with it personally,” he snapped. “Now, give me the bloody phone!”

Bond hesitated for a brief moment until, reluctantly, he placed the device in his hand.

“How far did they get?” Q demanded, foregoing any pleasantries.

_“Nothing was taken so far as we can tell.”_

“That’s not what I asked,” he answered sharply.

He heard Tanner sigh on the other end of the line. _“They breached the first three firewalls before we initiated the shutdown. We have reason to believe that this was the same organization that targeted you, but we’ve been unable to confirm-”_

“I’m coming in.”

“Q-” Bond was on his feet, having slipped back into his jeans.

_“Q, we’re not about to risk you as well-”_ came Tanner’s protest.

“I trust R with the internal system checks, but there are some things that I need to handle myself. Now either I come in, or you send someone with my laptop,” said Q in a tone that brooked no argument. “What’s it going to be?”

For a moment the line was silent. Then, _“I’ll have to clear it with M.”_

“Fine,” said Q. “I’ll give you ten minutes, then I’m coming in. I’ll be waiting for your call.” Without waiting for a response, Q disconnected, tossing the phone back to Bond before stalking from the room.

“ _Q._ ”

He was halfway across the living room before James caught his arm.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Let go, James,” he demanded, bracing an arm against his chest.

If anything, his grip only tightened. “If you think I’m going to let you go out there, you’re out of your bloody mind,” he growled.

“I’m the sodding Quartermaster,” Q shot back. “It’s my job to make sure our system is secure.”

“And it’s _my_ job to keep you safe!” He was gripping both of his arms now, and- if Q didn’t know better- he’d say there was a near desperate edge to his voice. “This whole bloody system breach could be nothing more than a lure to draw you out and I’m not about to take that risk. If M approves of sending someone with your computer, fine. If not, then we _let R handle it._ Alright?”

For a moment Q stared at him, his fingers twisted in the fabric of Bond’s already rumpled t-shirt. As much as he was loth to admit it, James was right. And even if he didn’t feel that way, he doubted he could say no to the man with him looking at him like that. Or that he could escape that iron grip if he tried. Finally, he nodded. “Alright.”

Bond studied him for a moment, seemingly weighing the sincerity of his answer. Finally, he released him. “Good,” he said, the stoic mask that was 007 firmly back in place. He smirked. “Because I’d hate to have to tie you up for the rest of the night to make sure you don’t go anywhere.”

Q quirked an eyebrow at him. “Somehow, I doubt you’d mind that very much.”

James grinned wolfishly. “I’ll bet that you’d like to find out.”


	4. Chapter 4

Tanner did call back within the threatened deadline and within twenty minutes Q was reunited with his beloved laptop. He now sat cross-legged on the sofa with it perched atop his knees, furiously typing away as he had been for hours now. Lines of code filled the screen as he meticulously sought out flaws in the half dozen firewalls he had surrounding MI6’s servers. By the time he had received his tech, the hacker’s trail was ice cold; but he’d be damned if he ever let anyone get that far again. Whoever it was had been good, but he was better.

James had drifted in and out throughout the evening; a presence he noted in food items and fresh mugs of tea left on the coffee table in front of him. He always disappeared by the time Q realized he’d even been there. So absorbed was he in his work that he didn’t notice the sinking of the sofa cushions beside him until he felt a hand on his arm.

He nearly jumped out of his skin. “Christ, James.” He slumped against the sofa cushions, running his hands over his face tiredly.

“Sorry,” he said with a smirk that told him he really wasn’t sorry at all. “Though, in my defense, I did say your name a few times. You obviously just didn’t hear me.”

Q bent over the keys once more, scanning for any mistakes in the last few lines of code he’d typed. “Anything new from Tanner?” he asked, eyes never leaving the screen.

He sighed. “Nothing yet. They keep hitting dead ends. Apparently they’re still not getting anywhere with your friend in interrogation. Mallory is beginning to consider some of the less orthodox methods.”

Q said nothing, the only indication he’d heard being the tightening of his jaw.

James moved closer but he still refused to take his eyes off his work; until he felt a brush of knuckles stroking along his side. When he glanced over, James’ gaze was fixed on the screen.

“What are you working on now?” he asked, continuing the idle motion of his hand. Q almost wondered if he even realized he was doing it.

“More upgrades to Six’s firewalls,” he answered, trying to regain his focus. James was being very distracting.

He frowned. “That’s what you said two hours ago.”

“Well,” said Q, “it’s a bit of a project. And given the fact that someone managed to get past _three layers_ of security without getting caught, I’m not about to just sit back and let it happen again.” He punched out the next line of code with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. “The next person who touches my firewall will be lucky if their computer doesn’t blow up in their face.”

He could feel James smirking without even looking at him. “Well, as much fun as that sounds, why don’t you finish up in the morning?” he said. “It’s late.”

Q glanced at the clock and frowned. It was after midnight. “Let me just finish this last line,” he acquiesced. “Then I’ll call it a night.”

“You say that, and then I’ll find you here at four in the morning still typing,” James answered. “You should take a break, Q.”

He nodded absently. “In a minute.”

He had forgotten about the hand against his side until he felt it move, fingers curling just above his hip. He flinched as James squeezed his side.

“Don’t,” he chided, biting back a grin as he checked for mistakes in the last line he’d typed.

But James was not so easily deterred. “Put it away, Q,” he said, digging his fingers into his side.

And Q will never admit to the squeak that escaped him when he jerked away, just barely keeping his laptop from tumbling to the floor. “Alright! Just let me save this.”

He set his laptop safely on the coffee table, leaning forward to type the last few commands needed to save his work. James took the opportunity to snake an arm behind his back and began poking at both of his sides, making him squirm. Q just managed to save his work and close his laptop before fully dissolving into a fit of giggles. “James!” Q tried to twist away only to end up on his back, his legs trapped across James’ lap. He was left with no means of escape as James pinned him down and proceeded to tickle him mercilessly.

Several minutes and shrieks of protest later, Q lay panting on the sofa, completely trapped beneath James’ weight.

“I had no idea you were so easy to manipulate, Q,” said James, gazing down at him from his perch straddling his hips. “I can think of a few agents who would pay handsomely for this bit of intel.”

Q narrowed his eyes at him. “If you breathe a word of this to _anyone_ , I will end you.”

James looked thoughtful. “No, you’re right. I’d best keep it to myself,” he said. “Gives me an advantage.”

“You’re a menace,” said Q, shifting underneath him.

James responded by poking his stomach, making him squirm.

Q grabbed for his hands before he could launch another attack on his midsection, resulting in a brief scuffle. Then Q found his hands pinned up beside his head, his fingers laced with James’; and suddenly the earth seemed to shift. Those piercing blue eyes gazing down at him held a different sort of intensity.

Then James blinked and the look was gone. He released Q and got to his feet. “You should get some sleep,” he said, suddenly all business. “There’s no telling what we’ll have to deal with in the morning.”

Q nodded absently as he stood, feeling off balance at the sudden shift in James’ mood. “Right,” he said. “It’s late. I’ll just- um… I’m going to get ready for bed.” Then without awaiting a response, he side-stepped James and slipped from the room.

When Q emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, having changed into a well-worn t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, he found James in the living room arranging pillows and a blanket he’d found on the sofa. Q lingered in the doorway to the bedroom, watching him for a long moment as he struggled with what he should do next. James Bond was an enigma at best, but this mercurial mood of his was enough to make his head spin. Clearly, he was interested… wasn’t he? Then why had he suddenly withdrawn? He needed to find out. Finally, he made a decision. “You don’t have to sleep on the sofa.”

James paused in his task and turned to face him, his expression unreadable.

He swallowed. “You can sleep in here,” he said, nodding over his shoulder. “If you want.”

James crossed the room in a few easy strides until he stood before him, his mouth ticking up at the corner. “Are you inviting me to your bed, Q?” he purred.

Q stepped closer until there were mere inches between them and wrapped a hand around his wrist, lifting his gaze to meet those glacial blue eyes. “Would you like me to?”

When James made no move to advance- nor did he pull away- Q closed the remaining distance between them and pulled him into a kiss; soft and languid, long fingers gliding through the short hair at the nape of his neck. As his other hand came up to rest against his hip, James broke the kiss, one hand braced against his chest.

“You should get some sleep, Q,” he stated simply.

He immediately withdrew his hands, taking a small step back. “Right,” he said, looking anywhere but at James as he tried to tamp down the sting of rejection that threatened to overwhelm him. His face felt hot. “I just- I mean, I thought…” He shook his head as though to clear it and briefly met his eye, offering a weak smile. “Goodnight.” Then he turned on his heel and retreated to the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

Q set his glasses on the nightstand and climbed into bed, curling on his side. As a dull ache began to settle in his chest, he clutched the pillow under his head and drew a shaky breath. _You are such an idiot,_ he thought bitterly. _You were convenient. It was one time. What could he possibly want with you beyond that?_ What had James said of him the night before? _Clingy_. That’s right. How many times had he heard that before? _Now you’ve really fucked it up. When will you learn?_ He squeezed his eyes shut and willed sleep to take him.

* * *

James stood outside the bedroom door and silently cursed. _Well. That went well._

He had hoped it would get it out of his system. A good fuck and he’d move on from whatever this was. Q was out of bounds. The only reason he had even crossed that line with James was due to the events of the past couple of days; a classic rebound response. The fact of the matter was that there could never be any sort of relationship between them in this line of work, and they both knew that. And even if they could, he would only end up hurting him in the long run. Staring at the closed door after watching Q shrink away from him like that- he realized he already had. So what now?

He had started to pace the living room, weighing his options, when an odd sound caught his attention. Instantly, James went on the alert, his whole body tense as he moved noiselessly in the direction of the sound. As he drew closer he realized it was coming from the panel beside the front door- a mechanical whirring sound- and he placed it immediately. Someone was trying to disable the security system.

Quickly and quietly, James withdrew to the living room. He picked up his Walther off a side table and tucked it into the back of his jeans. Then, as carefully as he could, he gathered up Q’s laptop and headed for the bedroom.

Q lay curled on his side when he entered, already fast asleep. James set the laptop on the edge of the bed before moving to his side and shaking him gently. _“Q.”_

Q stirred, blinking up at James sleepily as he tried to bring the world into focus without his glasses. “James? Wha-?”

He placed a hand over his mouth, straining to listen for any new sounds at the door. “Someone’s trying to get in,” he said as quietly as he could. “I need you to get an alert to Tanner.”

Q’s eyes widened as he scrambled to sit up, reaching for his glasses on the side table. “My laptop?”

“Here,” he said, sliding it toward him. “Now, listen to me; I want you to stay out of sight. Do not leave this room until I tell you.” He pulled out his Walther and checked the magazine. “When I go out, I want you to lock the door behind me. You got it?”

He hesitated. “James-”

“You have your job, now let me do mine,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. “You’re the priority and I’m getting you out of here, so you will do exactly as I say. You get in touch with Tanner and then you wait for me to come back for you. Understand?”

Finally, Q gave a nod. “Just make sure you do come back, alright?”

For a brief moment James locked eyes with him and neither spoke. Then he drew his Walther and slipped from the room.


	5. Chapter 5

James waited until he heard the click of the lock on the door behind him before moving further into the flat. Then as silently as a cat, he crept through the darkness, inching his way toward the front door. He could hear hushed voices on the other side and could tell they were nearly through. They sure were making a lot of noise, he thought. Probably assumed all of the flat’s occupants were asleep. _Amateurs._ He had just taken up position against the wall as the door swung open.

A single shot dropped the first intruder. He was dead before he even hit the floor. The man behind him nearly tripped over his corpse before another shot rang out and he dropped beside him. The shadow of a third figure stretched across the threshold, only this one was smarter than the others.

James ducked just as a bullet whizzed past his head, embedding itself in the plaster behind him. As the gunman stepped further into the room and took aim, he charged forward, knocking him to the ground. The gun flew from his hand and he pressed his advantage, landing blows to the man’s chest and jaw. One final strike with the butt of his gun insured that the intruder wouldn’t be rising again any time soon. It was almost too easy.

As James got to his feet, the sound of glass shattering caused him to turn sharply- and he realized his folly. Stepping through the remains of the sliding door that led to the balcony were two armed men- and they were headed straight for the back bedroom. The others had been a distraction. Now the enemy stood between James and the one he had sworn to protect. There would be nothing but a wooden door between Q and the looming threat.

He leveled his Walther at the nearest of the two, hitting his shoulder. His companion didn’t even blink. As James took aim once more, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and had no time to react as a gorilla of a man landed a blow to his chest that sent him staggering and his Walther flying from his hand. He regained his footing and just managed to block the next blow as the man advanced. Behind him he could see the other beginning to force the door. A cold sense of dread overtook him as he realized he would never get there in time. 

* * *

Q made quick work of the call out to Tanner and had received a reply within seconds. They were scrambling a team- but it would be at least fifteen minutes until they got there. As the sounds of the fighting outside the door gained intensity, he felt fear beginning to claw at his chest. He shot off one last message to Tanner before he closed his laptop, reaching for the open duffle bag beside the bed. A minute’s searching finally rewarded him with the item he was looking for- a high powered taser of his own design- buried toward the bottom. He had found it with a note attached from Moneypenny that read _-In case Bond gets out of line._ He had laughed at the note and shoved the taser deeper into his bag to be forgotten. Now, he was unspeakably grateful to have some means to defend himself.

The sound of glass shattering spurred him to action, and he quickly grabbed his laptop, bag, and taser and slid to the floor on the side of the bed facing away from the door. The laptop he unceremoniously shoved into the duffel bag before zipping it closed. Then he armed the taser and waited. Within seconds he heard the telltale sounds of someone trying to force the door.

As Q awaited the inevitable, his thoughts drifted to James; and he realized with a sudden sense of loss that he may never see him again. He could only hope that the sounds he heard coming from the other room meant that James was still alive and fighting.

The door burst open with a resounding _crack_ and Q’s hand flew to his mouth, trying to stifle the gasp that escaped him. He held his breath as heavy footsteps strode further into the room, tightening his grip on the taser. When the toe of a boot came into view, he lunged.

He had to admit, it _was_ a little satisfying making a grown man scream like that, and he felt no remorse whatsoever as he stepped over the twitching form curled on the carpet and edged his way to the door. He could still hear the scuffle going on outside, but he couldn’t see anything from this angle. Sparing a cursory glance at what he _could_ see beyond the bedroom door, he decided there was nothing for it and stepped across the threshold.

Q’s attention was immediately fixed on James as the agent came into view, locked in intense hand to hand combat with probably the largest man Q had ever seen. James was bloody, but he was upright and swinging.

Doing a quick sweep of the room, Q spotted James’ Walther lying just a few feet from where he stood. He lunged toward it- and came up short as a hand caught him by the throat, slamming him back against the wall until he saw stars, the taser slipping from his hand. He blinked away the sudden wave of dizziness to bring his attacker into focus, spotting the bleeding wound in the man’s shoulder. Q struck out as hard as he could with the heel of his hand and the grip on his throat was released, the man howling in pain.

He dove for the gun and leveled it at James’ opponent, but from this position the shot went wide, catching an arm instead of landing the kill shot he had intended. But for James, it seemed, this was all the edge he needed and he pressed his advance. Q straightened into a proper firing stance as James drove the man back and took aim.

Suddenly he felt a shooting pain originating at the back of his ribs and the world went white. Every muscle in his body seemed to constrict all at once as he was completely overwhelmed by the worst pain he had ever felt. He didn’t realize he was screaming until he had collapsed to the floor, his throat suddenly raw. He curled in on himself as his body trembled violently. It was all he could do just to _breathe_.

There was the sound of raised voices and suddenly Q was hauled roughly to his feet. He could feel the sharp edge of a blade pressed against his throat. As the world came back into focus he found James with his Walther at home in his hand and a feral look in his eyes. His opponent lay crumbled at his feet.

“I said, drop the gun!” demanded a voice painfully close to Q’s ear. He felt a sting as the edge of the blade dug in hard enough to draw blood. “Unless you’d prefer me to slit his throat?”

“You’ll be dead before you can blink,” James spat, his voice dripping venom. “I’ll give you one last chance; let him go or I put two new holes in your head.”

Q could feel the uncertainty in the grip around his torso. Whoever these people were, he knew they wanted him alive. It was an empty threat and James had called his bluff. Q locked eyes with James and gave an almost imperceptible nod. Then he closed his eyes.

Q heard the shot and the iron grip on him instantly went slack, the blade landing harmlessly on the carpet. He staggered forward as his knees gave out, but just before he collapsed a pair of strong arms enveloped him and lowered him gently to the floor. He opened his eyes to find James staring down at him with deep lines of worry etched into his features.

He offered up a weak smile. “I suppose I should modify the taser with palm print recognition,” he said. “It’s a bit embarrassing being taken down by your own weapon.”

Some of the tension appeared to leave James and he smiled in return. “Well, if you’d intended to fall into my arms, you didn’t need to go to such extremes.”

Q released a breathy laugh. “Do any of your lines ever actually work?”

James smiled and brushed a stray curl off of his forehead. “You tell me.”

* * *

They didn’t wait for Six to vacate the premises. After a quick sweep- James making sure that the two intruders left alive for questioning would be incapacitated until backup arrived- he gathered their two bags and returned to where he had left Q in the living room, seated in an armchair. His eyes were closed as James approached. He crouched in front of him and placed a hand on his knee.

“We need to go,” said James as he opened his eyes. “We’re sitting ducks here now that this safe house has been compromised. I’m going to move you somewhere safer.” James frowned as he took in Q’s pallor. There was still a slight tremor in his hands. “Do you think you can walk?”

Q sat up straighter, meeting his gaze with that increasingly familiar stubborn tilt to his jaw. “Of course,” he answered, gripping the arms of his chair as he prepared to stand. “You’re right; we should get moving.”

He got to his feet and James took a small step back, prepared to catch him if he stumbled. To his credit, he did make it a few steps before becoming worryingly unsteady and James decided to intervene. “You know what? Let’s not take any chances,” he said, taking him by the arm. “I’d like to get you to our destination _without_ further injury, if it’s all the same to you.”

“I suppose that would be ideal,” said Q, leaning heavily against his shoulder. “Maybe if you just- _JAMES! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”_

James just grinned as he lifted the slightly struggling Quartermaster into his arms. “We need to move quickly,” he said reasonably. “This way is easiest.”

Q groaned, but he wound his arms around his neck just the same. “Just don’t drop me,” he groused.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Q,” he answered.

“This has not been a good week for my dignity,” he muttered into the crook of his neck.

James smiled as he shifted him in his arms. “I can think of a few worse things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL THE Q WHUMP. I'm always a slut for h/c. This monster prompt is finally drawing to a close. I've got one more update planned. (Prepare for fluff as these two idiots finally pull their heads out of their asses.) Then I REALLY need to get back to my Spectre fix-it/00QAD sequel! D:
> 
> I thrive on your comments. :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Tooth-rotting fluff ahead. :D

M was pissed. Unsurprisingly, James didn’t care. His priority had been to move the Quartermaster to a secure location, and he had. If he chose not to disclose said location to anyone at Six, well, that was his prerogative. No one should’ve been able to track them to the safe house in Chelsea. The fact that someone had raised alarms that there had been a leak in the department. James was not about to take the risk of someone finding them again. And so he had taken matters into his own hands.

He parked the car outside a block of flats in Richmond. Q had fallen asleep in the passenger seat sometime during the twenty-minute drive to their new location and James was loath to wake him. As carefully as he could, he lifted him out of the car and began the ascent to the third floor.

It was a small two room flat that faced a solid brick wall; ideal for protection against snipers, he had thought upon first entering the place. It had once been a safe house under the reign of the previous M; one he had used on several occasions during his early days in the double-o section. But for whatever reason, it had fallen into disuse for this purpose and James had inherited it due to his rather transient lifestyle and habit of landing on its doorstep whenever he was in the neighborhood. It was soon forgotten by all but himself and M. Fortunately for him- and Q, knowledge of this little sanctuary was a secret she had taken to her grave. No one would look for them here.

He had kept the place up using various services and was pleased that the place showed signs of being recently tended to. There was the problem of food of course, but that he could sort out in the morning. His priority now was Q.

He had begun to stir during their trek upstairs and had opened his eyes by the time James stepped into the bedroom and set him on the bed. He gave him a once over, cupping his chin, and frowned at the dried blood near the base of his throat.

“Wait here,” said James. “I’ll be right back.”

Q nodded sleepily.

He returned a moment later with the first aid kit from the bathroom and set it next to him on the bed. This at least appeared to be well stocked. He took out an alcohol pad and returned his attention to Q, curling his fingers at the nape of his neck, his thumb sweeping along his jaw. “Tilt your head back.”

With a bit of guidance Q complied, one hand coming up to wrap loosely around James’ wrist.

Once he’d cleaned away the blood, he was relieved to see that the cut was superficial. He binned the alcohol pad and brought his hand up to mirror the other, cradling his head. “Q?”

Q blinked, the grip around James’ wrist tightening in a gentle squeeze. His eyes were a bit out of focus when he met his gaze. “Hmm?”

“You’re drifting,” said James. “How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts.”

James frowned. “Did you hit your head?”

He nodded.

James ran his fingers through his hair, finding a bump at the back of his head. “Did you black out when you hit your head?”

Q shook his head.

“Feel dizzy?”

He hesitated. A nod.

“Okay,” breathed James. “You may have a mild concussion, but nothing major. You just need to rest. Anything else I should know about? You did get a pretty good shock from that taser of yours.” He looked him over more closely, running his hands over his back and down his sides until he discovered a snag in the fabric of his t-shirt. He lifted it up at the back, discovering a burn from the point of contact against his ribs. “Christ, Q- what kind of voltage did you have on that thing?”

“It’s not about the voltage,” said Q. “It’s the amperage that packs the punch. My model puts out about 50 milliamps. It takes a bit longer to bounce back from.”

“You’re a mad man,” said James, taking care to clean the abused skin before applying a bandage.

“I’d thought about pushing it to 75,” he mused.

“I’d say halfway to lethal is enough,” he answered. “And palm print recognition wouldn’t be remiss. Especially if that thing’s your primary means of self-defense.”

Q hummed in agreement. James could tell he was starting to drift again.

Satisfied he had addressed the extent of his injuries, James packed up the first aid kit and set it on the bedside table. It didn’t take much coaxing to get Q to lie down and he soon had him under the covers, nearly asleep. He carefully removed his glasses and placed on the bedside table where he could easily find them in the morning. Then he gathered up the first aid kit and went to return it to its previous place beneath the bathroom sink.

_“James?”_

He rushed back to the bedroom, immediately scanning for a threat before his gaze came to rest on Q. As soon as James entered his line of sight he visibly relaxed against the pillows. James took a seat on the edge of the bed and Q curled on his side, reaching for his hand with half lidded eyes.

“Thought you left,” he muttered, his eyes falling closed once again.

Something tightened in James’ chest at those words. He reached out with his free hand and carded his fingers through his hair. “I’m here.”

Q stirred, squeezing his hand. “Stay?”

James smiled. “Budge up.”

While Q scooted over to make room, James stripped down to his pants and climbed into bed beside him. Once he got settled he pulled Q close, tucking his head beneath his chin. His fingers traced lazy patterns on the arm draped across his chest as he buried his nose in his curls. Already he could feel his breaths evening out in sleep. Before he allowed his own eyes to fall closed, he pressed a kiss to his hair. “I’m here.”

* * *

The first thing Q became aware of when he awoke was the presence of a warm body pressed against his. When he opened his eyes he discovered that he had managed to drape himself almost entirely over James during the night and that the man was awake- and probably had been for some time. He groaned.

“Morning sunshine,” said James with clear amusement, his voice rumbling deep in his chest.

“Do I want to know what time it is?” he asked, burying his face in his chest. The sun was very bright.

“Well,” he mused, “I suppose it’s either too late for breakfast or too early for lunch, depending on how you look at it.”

Q sighed. “You could’ve shoved me off, you know.”

He felt a hand slip beneath his shirt, calloused fingers tracing circles on his back. “Now, why would I want to do that?”

Q gave a pleasant shiver at the light touches and tried not to think of the implications of that statement.

James continued the gentle tickling motion of his fingers until Q had nearly drifted off again. Then suddenly he felt him shift, and James rolled them until Q was on his back. He reached down to brush his curls out of his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

Q mentally took stock. There was a dull ache in his head, which could be easily remedied with a couple of paracetamol, but other than that he felt fine. Much better than last night. “Good,” he answered honestly. “Although, I think I’ll be better after a shower.”

James hummed thoughtfully. “I think a shower sounds wonderful.”

* * *

Q prided himself on many things, but self-control was not one of them. There were so many things he needed to work out; questions he didn’t know how to broach with Bond- but when the man stripped off his pants and followed him into the shower- well- he decided that talking could wait until later.

They didn’t fuck. There was no way he would’ve said no if things had gone that way, but they just didn’t. As he stepped under the spray, James simply slotted in behind him, placing his hands on his waist as though he were concerned he might fall. They stood like that for a moment, James rubbing circles into the muscles of his lower back with his thumbs, then without any prompting he grabbed the bottle of shampoo and began washing his hair. Q soon discovered that the man gave excellent scalp massages. He felt himself melt under the attention of his hands and had to bite back what would have surely been an obscene moan as he moved one hand down to massage the muscles in his neck. Once he had rinsed his hair, he started kneading the muscles in his shoulders next and Q was in heaven.

As sensual as it was, James never made it sexual; his hands never once straying lower than his hips. He would occasionally press his lips to the back of his neck or a shoulder, but the kisses were chaste. There was no need behind them.

He reached for the body wash next and lathered up the loofah. Q let him get his back, but he was too ticklish to let him do anywhere else; a fact which James seemed to find endlessly amusing. Occasionally he would spider his fingers along his ribs or squeeze at his sides, catching him by the hips when his reaction threatened his balance. At one point he snaked an arm around his waist to tease at his navel and nearly took an elbow to the ribs for his trouble. By the time they were both clean and they stepped out of the shower, the water had started to get cold.

They dressed in comfortable silence and wandered into the living room. As James disappeared to work out what they were doing for food, Q curled up on one end of the sofa, lost in thought. There was a conversation that still needed to happen, but he had no idea how to start it; and he was terrified of how it would end. By the time James returned to the living room, he had completely withdrawn, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs and his chin resting on his knees.

“I got an order out for delivery,” James announced as he plopped onto the other end of the sofa. “Should be here in under an hour.” He looked at Q and a deep furrow formed in his brow. “What’s wrong?”

Q picked at a nonexistent loose thread in his trouser leg, refusing to meet his eye. “I need to know what we’re doing,” he said, hating how weak his voice sounded.

“Well,” said James, “I figured it’d be best to lie low for a while. Get in touch with Tanner after a couple of days to see where the dust settles-”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Q watched his expression shift in understanding. The look James gave him was almost sad. “What is it that you want?”

His heart sank, and it was like a physical weight had settled in his chest. He shook his head. “It’s not about what I want.”

James paused, considering him. “Why not?”

 _Because I never get what I want._ “Because you’re the one who knows how this works,” he answered, turning to face him. “I know you, James. I know that you don’t exactly do relationships. So I need to know what this is; what you expect from me. And what happens after we leave here.”

For a moment James just stared at him, his expression maddeningly unreadable. He shifted in his seat, regarding him with a tilt of the head. “If you’re so sure that I don’t do relationships, then why do you want this to continue?” he asked. “Are you really willing to just take what you can get?”

Q drew a breath, quickly averting his gaze. Hearing his own words- though never spoken aloud- echoed back to him was like a punch to the gut. He blinked back the tears that started to build behind his eyes. “I-” he swallowed, “I don’t-”

“Q.” James moved closer, turning his body to face him. “What happened yesterday; I know it was impulsive. I know neither of us were exactly thinking ahead. I had told myself that I would never let that happen with you because I thought it would never work, and I didn’t want to hurt you. Then it did happen; and after last night I realized just how much I care about you. Now I’m not so sure I can let you go.” James reached out and pressed his palm to his cheek. “I don’t know what I can offer you,” he said, “or how this is going to work. All I know is that I want you, and I care about you; and as rubbish as I’ve always been at relationships, well- I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

Q stared at him in stunned silence, struggling to process everything he had just heard. For a long moment he felt as if he had lost the ability to speak. Suddenly he crashed their lips together, kissing him as if he needed the air from his lungs to draw breath. Everything he couldn’t find the words to say he put into that kiss. He felt James’ fingers tangle in his hair and a broad hand pressed against his back, drawing him closer. By the time they broke apart he was nearly gasping for breath.

“So was that a yes?” asked James with a cheeky grin.

Q smiled. “As long as you think you’re not going to change your mind as soon as we leave here.”

“Not a chance,” said James, and he pulled him in for a kiss.

* * *

After food arrived and things finally got a bit more settled, much of the afternoon and evening was spent lazing on the sofa in front of the TV. Since they had gone off the grid, there really wasn’t much to do now but wait. It took very little effort for Q to hack into the satellite channels, so they had their pick of television programs and films to waste time on.

James, Q was learning, was a very tactile individual. He seemed to almost constantly feel the need to maintain some form of physical contact whenever they were in close proximity. Q quickly grew accustomed to fingers playing with the hair at his nape or tracing lazy patterns on his arms; and it didn’t take long for him to realize how much he enjoyed James’ constant need to touch. He discovered that if he stretched out on his stomach across James’ lap, he was rewarded with fingernails raking deliciously up and down the expanse of his back until he melted into a puddle- especially when he slipped a hand beneath his shirt; and James teased him about how like a cat he was. But if he stretched out on his back, he was just asking to have his ribs or tummy tickled.

Presently he was leaning his back against James, wrapped in an arm draped across his collarbone; a position they had settled into for at least an hour now. The credits were rolling for some disaster movie Q couldn’t remember the name of and had only half paid attention to. He was starting to drift off when he felt James shift a little against his back. “Do you need to get up?” he asked.

“No,” said James. “But we should probably think about heading to bed soon or we’ll both be stiff.”

“Joints acting up in your old age?” Q teased.

“Watch it,” he chided, poking at his side.

Before things could devolve into a full on- albeit very one sided- tickle war, Q slipped away and got to his feet, arching his back until each of his vertebrae seemed to fit back in place with a satisfying pop. He turned to head towards the bedroom to change, but James, it seemed, had other plans. As Q made to slip past, a pair of strong hands gripped his hips, pulling him down until he all but fell into James’ lap. He braced an arm against the back of the sofa in an effort to keep his balance, his knees bracketing James’ hips.

James’ fingers found the hem of his shirt, palms sliding up his back. “You’re irresistible; you know that?” he said huskily. “What am I going to do with you?”

Q felt heat creeping up his neck as he gazed down into those piercing blue eyes and suddenly found himself unable to form words. Slowly, he threaded his fingers together at the back of James’ neck and pulled him into a kiss.

They began at a languid pace, trading kisses almost lazily- as if they had all the time in the world. As James slowly began to coax his mouth open with his tongue, Q felt himself giving over control, allowing James the freedom to explore. As though sensing the shift, James’ hands slid down his back to rest on his hips, gripping them possessively. After a moment, he pulled back, studying Q’s face as he started pushing up his shirt. In answer, Q removed his glasses and set them carefully on the coffee table behind him. James was met with no resistance as he then worked the article over his head and tossed it to the floor. Q hummed his approval as James ducked his head to lick a stripe up the side of his throat, pressing kisses to the sensitive skin there. Work-rough hands slid down the expanse of his back to his sides as though James were mapping him with his hands. Q’s eyes had fallen blissfully closed by the time he began mouthing at his collarbone.

Suddenly an arm tightened around his waist and Q experienced a moment of weightlessness as James lifted him easily, shifting their position to lay Q on his back. James quickly peeled off his shirt and tossed it to the floor before lowering himself down to begin mouthing at his ribs. Q threw his head back against the sofa cushions as he trailed kisses down to his stomach, drawing a gasp as he dipped his tongue into his navel. The sensation was like a jolt of electricity that made Q writhe beneath him, though he made no move to get him to stop. Seemingly enjoying the reaction, James lingered there a moment before moving on to begin sucking a bruise on his hip.

He brushed his lips against his lower abdomen as he deftly began undoing the flies of his trousers, and Q needed no prompting as he lifted his hips to allow him to pull them free. James took a moment to work himself out of his jeans, and Q felt his heart flutter in his chest as he settled once more between his legs, running his palms up the backs of his thighs to bend his knees. He gave a pleasant shiver as he pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh. Q was practically panting under the attention of his mouth, his fingers grasping for something to ground him. He ended up closing a hand around James’ wrist, and James pulled back to catch both of his hands. He laced their fingers together as he lifted his arms, pinning them high above his head.

“One of these days,” said James, mouthing at his throat, “I’m going to tie those pretty wrists of yours and play with you for hours.” He nipped beneath his jaw. “Perhaps I’ll use one of my silk ties.”

Q moaned as he slotted a knee between his legs, giving him enough friction to bring acute awareness to his need yet not enough to give him any relief.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he growled against his throat.

He rolled his hips in response, desperate to bring their bodies closer together, and he was rewarded by James slipping a hand between them. He keened as he rubbed his palm maddeningly over the front of his pants. _“Fuck.”_

He could feel James grinning. “Patience, darling,” he teased. “I’m going to take care of you.”

And if he could have this every day for the rest of his life, it still wouldn’t cease to amaze him how much of a generous lover James Bond could be.

It seemed like an age that James worked him over with his hands. Most of the lovers Q had had did not enjoy the prep work, and in his experience it was often rushed. James seemed to revel in it; just how close to the edge he could take him, the sounds he could pull from him with just his fingers. James made good use of both of his hands, and the dueling sensations alone would have been enough to send him over the edge. But just as he’d be about to climax he would ease off, starting the cycle over again. He kept this up until Q was begging for release.

Once James was finally inside him he was aching for it, but still he managed to drag it out. Q dug his nails into his shoulders hard enough that he was sure he’d draw blood, and it only spurred him on. When he finally came to completion he was screaming his name, and James followed him over the edge. As he rode out the shockwaves of what had to have been the best orgasm of his life, it was as if he had somehow detached from himself; like he was floating above his own body.

By the time he came back down, James was getting them both cleaned up and it was all he could do to lift his head. Once his task was done, James carried him back to the bedroom. When Q curled on his side, he felt James slot in behind him; and as a strong arm wrapped around his middle and held him against his chest, he was sure he had never felt more content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaaaaay shenanigans.
> 
> Soooo... the muse is demanding and this is actually going to have ONE MORE chapter since this one decided to EXPLODE because these two idiots can't keep their hands off each other. It'll likely be more of an epilogue. I'm hoping to crank that out on my next day off, so soooon.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the feedback and support this has received! Your comments honestly make my day when they pop into my inbox. I hope you all have enjoyed this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. :) One to go!
> 
> P.S. I just want you all to know that I can't write smut and this is honestly the most detailed sex scene I have ever written and omg it took me forever, so I hope it was okay! *runs away


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. The muse has been especially uncooperative lately. Thanks to thebookworm214 for giving this the extra nudge it needed! :)

It was two days before they made contact with MI6 again. As it turned out, there had indeed been a mole in the department and it pleased James perhaps more than it should to know that his fellow double-o’s were out for blood. They were nothing if not loyal to their Quartermaster.

With the mole routed out, the identity of the organization that had targeted Q was quickly identified as a known cyber terrorist group. Unfortunately, they had indeed properly identified him as the Quartermaster and it was going to be a project to contain the spread of that intelligence. Q’s anonymity was their best defense and Six was not about to relinquish it without a fight.

With the immediate threat neutralized, Q was finally allowed back in his branch where he spent the next several days working endlessly to track the organization. Once their base of operations was discovered somewhere on the east coast of the United States, Q’s vengeance was absolute. In less than an hour he had crippled their network, bringing the entire organization to its knees. After rather generously handing off some of the acquired intel to the CIA, MI6 insured that all traces of the organization had been utterly obliterated. M, quite frankly, was in good spirits now that the Americans owed them a debt.

It was after nine as Bond lingered in one corner of Q-branch, waiting for his Quartermaster to finish up for the night. M had remained rather insistent that Q maintain a security detail; the job of which had fallen to 007. Neither had complained, of course, as this insured that Bond’s routine of collecting the Quartermaster at the end of the night went unquestioned. When the rest of the branch had cleared out, leaving Q alone at his station, he finally quit his perch among the shadows to approach his charge.

“In a minute,” said Q preemptively, not looking up from his work. “Just a couple of things to wrap up and then we can be on our way.”

“You always say that,” answered James as he stepped up behind him. “But a minute for you usually turns into an hour. And besides,” he purred, brushing his lips against his neck, “what if I have plans for you tonight?”

Q suppressed a pleasant shiver as those last words were breathed into his ear. “If you can refrain from being a distraction, perhaps I’ll finish sooner,” he quipped.

“Hmm. But I’m not being half as distracting as I could be.” He slipped both hands beneath his cardigan to knead at his sides before bringing them down to rest on his hips.

Q flinched. “James, not at work,” he admonished.

James gripped his hips possessively, pulling him closer. “Then stop working and come home with me,” he answered, mouthing at his neck.

Q’s eyes drifted closed of their own accord as he leaned back against him reflexively. “You’re incorrigible.”

James slipped an arm around his waist and nipped beneath his jaw.

Q folded. “Alright, alright- I’m shutting down.”

He smirked against the side of his throat.

* * *

Q lay stretched out on his own sofa in his own living room; a fluffy white cat at his feet and his head on a pillow in James’ lap. Empty take away containers littered the coffee table, but he couldn’t be arsed to care about cleaning up right now. He was exhausted to his bones and had no intention of dislodging the hand in his hair; the fingers scratching lightly at his scalp having all but obliterated the tension headache that had been forming at the base of his skull all evening. No, after a twelve-hour day in Q-branch, he was content to stay right here. Which was why when he felt James shift underneath him he may or may not have released something akin to a growl.

James stilled, clear amusement in his tone when he spoke. “Q?”

“Don’t get up,” he groused, clutching the pillow in James’ lap a little tighter.

“It’s after midnight,” he reasoned, “wouldn’t you rather be in bed?”

“S’comfy here,” came the mumbled reply.

“And you’ll be more comfortable in bed,” James mused. “Come on, Quartermaster. Up you get.”

This time he really did whine.

“Q.”

He felt a hand on his hip, the heat the man radiated easily seeping through the thin fabric of his cotton sleep pants. Calloused fingers worked their way under the hem of his t-shirt to tease at his side. He squirmed, curling a little tighter on his side.

“I _will_ tickle you.”

No sooner had the threat been spoken than Q felt a hand squeeze at his side. The full body flinch that resulted was enough to drive Pascal from his perch at Q’s feet, who then fled the room with an irritable swish of his tail. Turing, the Russian Blue pressed against James’ side, immediately followed suit. Q scrambled into a sitting position.

“Not fair, you arse,” said Q, smacking him in the chest with the pillow. “You can’t keep using that against me.”

James quirked an eyebrow at him, a positively evil glint in his eye. “Can’t I?”

Q’s eyes widened. _Shit_.

He sprang from his seat about a millisecond before James, ducking around furniture in an effort to put distance between them. Pointless, really. Q could hardly hope to dodge a double-o, and he had the distinct feeling of a mouse being stalked by a very large cat the way the man toyed with him. He was already a giggling mess as James finally caught him and he was unceremoniously tossed over his shoulder. Q flailed weakly in his grasp as he stalked off toward the bedroom.

James dropped him on the bed, catching him by the ankle when he tried to crawl away and pulling his feet into his lap. Q shrieked as he began to tickle his feet, thrashing wildly in his grasp. James must have decided the endeavor wasn’t worth potentially getting kicked in the face because he soon relented. But any hope Q had of escape was instantly lost as James tackled him to the bed, trapping Q beneath his weight as he settled astride his hips. With one hand he easily pinned both of Q’s wrists above his head, leaving his other hand free to torment him uninhibited. Q’s laughter bordered on hysterical as he spidered his fingers across his ribs and belly, occasionally slipping a hand beneath the fabric of his t-shirt to tease bare skin. By the time he finally relented, Q was breathless; his muscles sore from laughing.

“You know,” said Q as James flopped onto the bed beside him and draped an arm across his middle, “I could start withholding sex.”

James chuckled as he pulled him closer. “But you won’t,” he answered with a brush of lips against his neck.

Q shivered. “Arse.”

Eventually they worked their way under the covers, Q rolling onto his side to set his glasses on the nightstand on what had become his side of the bed. As he settled in James’ chest was a familiar warmth pressed against his back. He laid a hand over the arm wrapped around his middle and snuggled in closer, earning a kiss to one shoulder. It had become his favorite part of his nightly routine; settling in to sleep secure in his lover’s arms. He tried not to think about how much he’d miss it when James was away.

But even as the quiet settled over the space and the rise and fall of the chest against his back grew deep and even, sleep seemed to allude him. The sounds of the building settling around them became footsteps in the hall. The clouds that drifted across the moon turned to shadowed figures outside the window. He fought the urge to check the camera feeds he’d placed strategically around the flat, fiercely reminding himself that he had a _double-o_ in his bed for Christ’s sake should someone actually manage to get past the dozen security protocols he had in place. He forced his eyes closed, shifting minutely in James’ arms.

“I can hear you thinking,” rumbled a sleep rough voice in his ear, warm breath caressing the nape of his neck.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Not entirely.” James shifted at his back, burying his nose in his curls. “What’s wrong?”

Q sighed. “It’s nothing. I just… I keep going over everything in my head and I’m afraid I’ve missed something. I’d just like to be sure I’m not about to have some terrorist group kick in my front door, you know?”

“After what you did to the last one, I doubt anybody will get any bright ideas anytime soon,” said James. “And this flat is nearly as secure as Buckingham Palace. More so in some ways.” He pressed a kiss behind his ear. “Stop worrying.”

He took a breath. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” said James, earning a pinch to his forearm. He chuckled. “And besides-” Q rolled onto his back as he disentangled himself to prop up on one elbow, a shadow against the moonlight. “No one’s ever going to get that close to you again.” He brushed his curls out of his eyes, bringing the hand down to rest on his cheek. “Not while I’m here.”

Q stared up into those icy blue eyes- marveling at just how warm they could be- as the weight of his words settled in. Silently he reached up to run his fingers through the soft hair at the base of his skull and pulled him down until their lips met.

They lay like that a while, kissing languidly. James was a solid weight above him, bracketing him with an elbow on either side of his head. The position should have left him feeling trapped, but instead he felt secure in this shared space; like nothing could touch him here. He allowed his eyes to fall closed as James began to trail kisses along the pale column of his throat. He barely registered his t-shirt being worked over his head before he felt a brush of lips against his sternum. Gooseflesh began to rise against the flat planes of his stomach as he inched his way lower, teasing him with his tongue. His fingers brushed above the waistband of his sleep pants, inching them further down his hips. He felt a hand rub along the inside of his thigh as James followed the path of his fingers with his lips.

Q’s breath hitched. “James-”

“I want to know what you taste like,” he purred, pressing a kiss to the juncture of hip and thigh. “May I?”

_Jesus._ Q’s mouth went dry, his fingers twisting in the sheets. He gave a nod.

James settled between his legs with a wicked grin.

 

And if Q wandered in late for work the next day with 007 looking a bit more smug than usual- well; no one else needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends. Never thought this little prompt would turn into this. If you like my work, feel free to subscribe! More 00Q to come.
> 
> Leave your thoughts in the comments! :)


End file.
